


chain around my neck / lead me anywhere

by persephhoney



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Drabble, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, PWP, Quickies, Top!Yuri, bottom!Otabek, but mostly as a historical pet name, daddy - Freeform, for historical purposes, short n sweet without the sweet, vaseline as lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephhoney/pseuds/persephhoney
Summary: “What’s a doll like you doin’ in a bar like this?” is one of the first things Yuri is greeted with upon walking into the joint. You know, besides the sticky, carpeted floor, smell of dampness and cigarettes, and the rock n’ roll music playing over a radio behind the bar.
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 25
Kudos: 65





	chain around my neck / lead me anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> WELL it has been a while, pals. But recently I've been doing work on my thesis and I got inspired by some of the history I've been reading. 
> 
> It's just a drabble but I do hope you enjoy. Let me know if you do, it'll fuel this unproductive fire rn 
> 
> The title of this fic comes from (Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear by Elvis. It screamed Otabek vibes to me? 
> 
> you can find me on [https://twitter.com/punktsuki](%E2%80%9DTwitter%E2%80%9D) if you wish to scream at me there x

_Baby let me be your lovin' teddy bear_

_Put a chain around my neck_

_And lead me anywhere_

\- Elvis Presley

Five O’clock could not have come sooner for Yuri Plistetsky who had been stuck indoors all day. He was sick of the monotonous clicking of typewriters and the heavy blanket of still smoke coming from other men’s cigars. It hung around like a potent reminder that he should want to do the same. He wasn’t exactly sure when or _why_ cigars became the ultimate symbol of masculinity. Perhaps, he thought, it was the phallic shape. He snickered to himself when he thought about these straight, square men he was surrounded by on the weekdays pressing such a thing to their lips and finding it acceptable. Somehow, he felt that if he were to try, he’d be mocked anyway. There were already assumptions about his _persuasion_ floating around. He’s lucky he even had this job still. Most men took one look at him and _knew_. Something about his stature, they often said. Some said that it was because he wore white socks, which is ridiculous. Yuri wasn’t sure what that had to do with who he liked to see naked. 

Despite their ridiculous reasonings though, it was true. Yuri would much prefer to choke on another man’s appendage than the smoke he’d been choking on all day. 

These thoughts were dangerous, especially while still at his place of employment. Honestly, at the age of eighteen, middle management just wasn’t where he wanted to be. He had too much energy for this shit. He wouldn’t care if he lost his job so much if, somehow, his thoughts were to escape him. Or if he were to slip up and get caught. But, it was the other repercussions he cared more about. He wanted his grandfather to be proud of him, he had got him this position in the first place after all. 

Regardless of the repercussions though, Yuri couldn’t find it within himself to stop. 

Every Friday morning Yuri would tell himself _not today, not this time_ . And yet, by the time five o’clock rolled around, he found himself walking down the bustling street and straight back into The Southern Hotel where other men, such as himself, met to find company amongst other men. He would, of course, check over both shoulders before he entered the venue with a poster in the window advertising that _BOYS WILL BE GIRLS_. Some out of touch outsiders might assume it’s the alcohol that keeps him going back. Perhaps, to them, a problem with alcohol would be a better problem to claim. It’s what he planned on telling his grandfather if he ever asked. 

As he entered, he was greeted again with a blanket of smoke. This one wasn’t as suffocating though, it wasn’t weighted with expectation. The occasional breeze from the door opening and closing as the next new fucker walked in kept the air flowing, he supposed.

Yuri sat by the bar, beer in hand, looking around to see if any of the men took his fancy tonight. He was small, and conventionally pretty, he knew this. He could have any one of the bastards if he asked. If there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that if you let them know you like getting railed, you’ll have em’ lining up. He wasn’t sure why any of them refuse to take that role, though. 

They were all standing around in small clusters, drinking, smoking, standing tall in their hats and crisp suits their mothers probably ironed for them. Those mothers would not be happy about what their sons do in those suits, that’s for certain. 

Yuri loosened his tie. He hated wearing it. Hated the suit too, really. He felt constricted like he couldn’t move the way he’d like to. Nobody in there seemed interesting enough to look at for more than a few seconds, honestly. He made small talk, never abandoning the drink in his hand. He drank slowly so that he always had something to do with his hands if the conversation lead to silences between him and the people he spoke to. 

By the end of his beer though, the last, warm, hoppy swig which left a twisted and bitter expression on his face as he swallowed it down, he decided that this wasn’t the place for him after all. Not tonight, anyway. There had been no word of a party later, and everybody just seemed so… boring. Like the colours of their suits, all variations of grey, beige and tweed. Where was the excitement? Everything was all too sensible. He was getting fidgety. 

Yuri undid the tie completely, shrugging off his suit jacket and dumping it on an empty barstool. He needed a change of scene, a change of pace. He’d come back for the jacket and tie later. Or, he hoped whoever picks them up enjoys them, honestly. He unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt and walked back out of the bar and onto the street. 

He did get some odd looks, mostly people not sure how old he was or how to perceive a man out in the evening without his jacket on. They didn’t say anything, of course, but it was an odd sight. His natural response, of course, was to smirk and nod occasionally in the direction of judgemental women clutches their purses. 

The bar down the street, the one which he always stumbles past on his way home every weekend, looked darker than the place he had just come from. He could hear both the clinking and smashing of glasses from the outside, the deep roar of throaty laughter. The front is littered with motorcycles parked as close to the entrance as they could get, some of them spilling onto the footpath and obstructing pedestrian’s way. This was what he needed. It screamed trouble, and Yuri knew he can take it on. 

***

“What’s a doll like you doin’ in a bar like this?” is one of the first things he is greeted with upon walking in. You know, besides the sticky, carpeted floor, smell of dampness and cigarettes, and the rock n’ roll music playing over a radio behind the bar. 

Yuri turns to see a man not so much taller than him but a whole lot rougher-looking. His arms are hidden under a leather jacket but it doesn’t take much to know that he has muscle. Yuri blatantly looks the man up and down, from his crew-cut hair, to the greased-up chucks on his feet. He absolutely doesn’t miss the metal chain around his neck, dog tags hanging down to his chest. An army boy. 

“I need to find the bathroom,” Yuri answers with a smile. “Care to show me the way?” His intention is clear. This is just what they do and if this stranger doesn’t catch on then maybe Yuri has read him all wrong. The twinkling look in his dark eyes as he stands and quietly gestures for Yuri to follow though, tells him that he knows exactly what Yuri is after. 

The toilet stall is dark and small, but this is nothing Yuri hasn’t done before. He’s pushed down onto his knees, a heavy hand on his shoulder as soon as the door swings closed behind them. There’s a sharp pain that follows as the man’s hand tangles in his hair and pulls hard.

Yuri looks up at the man above him, the sticky, chilled concrete beneath him seeping in through his trousers and making his knees ache already. “Is this what you think I want? Another man to use me? To get off and leave me unsatisfied?” He stands up, ignoring the shake in his legs and the grip in his hair. He reaches out to pull the dog tags around the man’s neck, pulling him closer, their faces only a breath apart. “Not so fast, _daddy_ ,” Yuri sneers. His eyes flick down to read the metal pressed into his palm. 

_Altin._ He’ll remember that.

As he turns the man not-so-gently around to face the wall, his hand losing its grip on Yuri’s hair, he leans up on his toes to whisper in Altin’s ear “I’m taking you first.” He doesn’t miss the way his skin prickles up into goosebumps on the back of his neck, the sound of him swallowing so hard he can hear it over the sounds of Johnny Kidd carried from inside the bar and other men fucking a few stalls over. “Okay?”

He sighs. “Okay.” 

“Drop your trousers,” Yuri orders as he reaches into his back pocket and retrieves a small tin of Vaseline. He coats his fingers before he reaches down, spreads his stranger’s cheeks and circles his rim with his fingertips. Yuri revels in the gasp that naturally falls off Altin’s lips. He teases there a moment, letting his body adjust. 

“Get on with it,” Altin says impatiently 

“Easy…” Yuri replies. “No need to get needy, now.” 

“Fuck you,” he spits through gritted teeth. 

“Told you, that’s _my_ job,” Yuri slips two fingers inside, smirking in response. The moan he is gifted with though goes straight to his dick. He’s hard and his own trousers are starting to make this more than a little uncomfortable. 

Yuri works him open, as slowly and as carefully as he can under the circumstances. He doesn’t want to get caught with his fingers up a stranger’s ass if there’s a police raid. It won’t be good for either of them. Once he feels as though his taller, stronger, rougher, beautiful man is ready, he slicks himself up and pushes in slowly, moaning as the tip of his cock edges past that tight ring of muscle. 

His hips snap back and he sets a pace as he fucks into him, the sound of skin on skin echoes through the dim light of the bathroom, mixing with the grunts of pleasure coming from beneath him. Yuri grips the flesh on the man’s hips, nails digging into his skin. 

“Jerk yourself for me, big boy,” Yuri pants out. A surge of adrenaline and something that feels like power explodes in his chest as he watches Altin follow his directions. “Want to see you paint the wall when you come…” he whispers, pressing a kiss to his neck before nibbling the lobe of his ear. 

It’s over quickly soon after that. 

Altin grunts first before he cries out and tightens around Yuri. Yuri’s hips stutter and he lets out quite the pathetic little whine as he comes, spilling inside him. It seems Yuri found a weak spot. He’s good at that though and it’s all they have time for here. 

“Take a breath, daddy,” Yuri’s breath comes hot and heavy as he pulls out and begins to clean them both up. “You got a place we can go?” He asks. The reality that this place smells like sweat and beer and piss is slowly sinking in.

Altin simply lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, but you’ll have to get on the back of my bike.” 

Yuri presses a kiss to his shoulder. “Let’s get outta here, then.”


End file.
